


Don't Forget to Jump

by thesilverwitch



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Frottage, Gymnastics, M/M, Public Sex, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 02:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilverwitch/pseuds/thesilverwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Spock meet at the national gymnastics tournament and immediately become enemies. Except, of course, things are never that simple. A present day, gymnasts!AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Forget to Jump

**Author's Note:**

> This baby took me wayyy to long to write, mostly because I got hit by a writer's block right in the middle of it. Still, it's here now and I'm proud of it! Just a small note, if you're actually part of the gymnastics world/know anything about real gymnastics -- I'm really sorry. I did some research but I'm pretty sure it wasn't enough. Thanks to [Cherry](http://chekovv.tumblr.com/) for beta'ing, and to [thatsflash](http://thatsflash.tumblr.com/) & [dynamiteneophyte](http://dynamiteneophyte.tumblr.com/) for offering advice. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated :)

Excitement can be felt buzzing through the air. Something almost palpable. An absolute lack of fear. Something everybody experiences as they do their routines through the various stages. 

That’s the best part of gymnastics in Jim’s opinion; the raw emotion it gives you that always makes you feel like you can do anything you want, that you, and you alone, are the most beautiful thing on Earth. When you’re on the mat, and the spotlight is on you, it’s impossible not to let yourself go. You jump and you dance with practiced ease, the public claps, and you’re on top of the world. 

Never mind that the minutes before your name is called you’re pretty much a walking pile of nerves. When you’re on the mat, you’re amazing; a bleeding, shining star and everybody has their eyes on you. Only you.

Jim shook his head as tried to clear his mind. It wouldn’t do him much good to start with glamorous thoughts **** before he’s even began. 

He wondered if anyone would notice if he went to the kids’ mat to release some energy. He felt like he could run a mile in less than two minutes, his arms and legs begging for some of the tension to be released. Unfortunately, Jim wasn’t a seven year old who couldn’t hold himself still for more than five seconds anymore, and people would surely disapprove of him acting like one. He was a professional - well, as professional as a college student doing gymnastics in his free-time could be. 

The thing about gymnastics was that, if Jim wanted, he could lie and say he was only in it to make his mother happy. She was a brilliant gymnast, who had damaged her spine in her early days and had to give up her passion despite the amount of raw potential she had. A classic story, yeah, Jim knew that. 

But truth be told, Jim really did like gymnastics. Sure, he’d gotten into it when he was only five, and at that time the only reason he was doing gymnastics was so he could jump on the big trampolines and feel the adrenaline in his blood as he rushed through the air. Regardless, he was no longer five and he didn’t do trampolines anymore - they got boring and repetitive after a while – now? Now Jim danced. 

Dancing wasn’t the most correct word, his area being actually called “floor”, but Jim had always felt that what he did was dance. He danced and jumped and swirled through the air as his body contorted with ease. There was something brilliant about gymnastics; the energy, the spirit, the rampaging hormones that made him aware of every stretch in his body, and always left him acutely aware of who was standing beside him. The camaraderie you felt when watching friends perform in other categories; the senseless jealousy and occasional hatred when watching other people in your category. 

One of the girls appeared in Jim’s line of __ vision, pointing to the stage behind her as she spoke. “Hey, Jim, you’re up next.” 

“‘Kay.” Jim nodded as he made his way over. His whole body was trembling already, and he silently cursed himself when he noticed how sweaty his palms were. Normally, Jim didn’t feel nervous, the irreversibly cocky side of his personality managing to calm him down. But normally Jim participated in smaller scaled, regional tournaments. This was a national one - only Jim’s third - with photographers lining the sides of the floor as he got up. There was even a crowd - an actual fucking crowd - and  shit , it really didn’t help that he was the one representing his whole region, meaning failure was no longer calmly accepted. 

Another thing that didn’t help was the guy currently staring at Jim with the force of a thousand suns. 

Jet black hair, perfectly framing his long face that always  seemed  devoid of any apparent emotion. He always stood like he was being scrutinized, something that openly reflected on his performances. He was controlled, never did or said anything that wasn’t completely measured and thought  out . Jim wasn’t one for dramatizations, but if somebody ever asked him if he had an arch-nemesis, Jim would say  " yeah. Him. Spock." 

The name was ridiculous, but  its owner  was anything but. Jim met him on his first national level competition, age sixteen, where Spock openly kicked his ass. 

Jim  wouldn't hesitate  to say that he hated Spock with all his guts. Except it wasn’t that simple - it’s Jim Kirk we’re talking about here, things are never simple with him - and he and Spock went a long way back for two guys who’d only met a handful of times.  

In Jim’s first National Tournament, to say  he  had been nervous when he first got on the floor is  a huge understatement . Jim had been shaking all over, practically pissing himself. His coach, Mrs. Pike, had to shove a couple of pills in his mouth to get him to calm down a bit. Still, despite feeling like he was about to have a stroke at any second, Jim had been amazing. 

Weightless, mesmerizing, magical. Those  were the words the rest of his  all-female  team mates had used to describe him. Jim had blushed, accepted the hugs and turned to watch the final competitor get on stage. Spock.  A nd dammit, if Jim had been good, Spock  had been  fucking perfect. 

Effortless. All of his moves had seemed completely effortless, like the pressure of holding his whole body’s weight in the palm of his hands was nothing. Jim had gaped at Spock, then gaped at the judges as they gave Spock more points than they’d given him, then just gaped, unable to assimilate everything he was feeling.

That’s when the worst part had happened. While Jim was  gaping  for the lack of something better to do, Spock had gotten off the floor and passed right by him. Jim was going to congratulate him, it was the polite thing to do, but then Spock, without even looking at Jim, had said “you should close your mouth before you catch some flies.” 

Jim hadn’t  replied , too shocked and angry and embarrassed to think about or even  realise what had just happened. Spock didn’t even know him, not in the slightest, and he was making fun of him? That just wasn’t okay. 

“Oi, you little –“ 

“Jim, cut it out,” his coach had said as he grabbed Jim’s arm and pulled him in, “Spock won, you were great kid, but he was better. You’ve gotta let it go.” 

“But did you see him? ‘ _ Before you catch some flies _ ’,” Jim had tried to imitate Spock’s voice, but he didn’t have much to base it on so he simply tried to speak as robotic as he could. “Who the fuck does he think he is? He doesn’t even know me.” 

Jim’s coach had leveled him with a stony glare, telling him this wasn’t an argument they were going to have. “Let it go, Jim.” 

His teammates had clapped Jim on the back as they made their way towards the exit. Jim tried to follow them, but found the thought of moving a bit too difficult, his body still trying to process everything. It was like all of his feelings were coming and going in  waves . First, Jim felt the full blow of disappointment, then anger, then embarrassment, and then anger again. Jim felt a lot of anger. 

The  anger didn’t leave Jim, like he thought it would. Instead it stayed, and with it stayed the promise that Jim would get better. That Jim would become the best goddamn gymnast ever, and that he was going to beat Spock next year.  Then  he was going to ridicule Spock, just like Spock had ridiculed him. 

He trained all year long, harder and more consistently than he had ever trained before, his brain focused  solely  on winning. For the first couple of months, this went quite well. 

Jim was focused - he had a goal in mind and, even though that goal was eating away at a good portion of his free-time, his mother couldn’t be more proud and nobody at school seemed to mind. Jim wasn’t exactly swimming in friends; besides the rest of the gymnastics team, he hardly talked to anyone. 

This was thankfully amended when their team got a new member. Leonard McCoy, he was a new kid but he already walked like he knew everyone and every damn thing in front of him. He also scowled an awful lot, stayed away from the more clingy girls and kept muttering about diseases. Jim decided right away that he liked him. Also, Bones – because calling him McCoy was just weird and for some reason the kid didn’t like being treated by his first name – performed on the vault, which meant he and Jim wouldn’t be competing against each other anytime soon, which in turn meant a happy Jim. 

Jim didn’t like competing with friends. Friendly competition? Sure. Actually fighting against them for some kind of prize? No can do ,  sir. 

So Jim got a  new  friend, and with time he slowly lost track of his  vow  to beat Spock, until it was only a faint memory in the back of his mind. He continued to participate in smaller tournaments with his school; they won a good portion of them, and then before Jim even knew it, Nationals were up again and he and Spock were going to meet for the second time. 

Jim was going to compete against Spock again. Shit. He wasn’t prepared. Sure, he’d been  practicing  and there were a couple more moves  under  his belt this time, more experience and more confidence. But surely, Spock had been  practicing  too, probably harder than Jim  judging  by the way he seemed to have carried himself back at the first National. 

Two months before the actual competition, Jim was back at his crazy training regime n . Practically busting himself, his mind focused only on Spock again. His friends thought it was bizarre, Bones thought it was the weirdest shit ever and even Jim’s mom and his coach thought he was overdoing it a bit. 

But Jim ignored them, ignored every single one of them, as his anger fuelled him on. It was like a fire had been ignited inside of him ,  simple thoughts of Spock and his stupid shiny hair and his stupid blank face creeping up on Jim when he least expected and making him want to run ten miles. Even his dreams now held memories of Spock. Never mind that Jim had only met him once, and even then it hadn’t been a great meeting, Spock was his enemy and Jim was going to beat him. He was going to wipe that snobby, little arrogant look off Spock’s face, no matter what it took.  

Also, the fact that Spock was actually a snobby, arrogant kid pleased Jim to no end, since it made hating Spock infinitely easier. 

On the year break between the tournaments, Jim had done some research on Spock; and by some research, what was actually meant was that Jim stalked the shit out of him. After all, they didn’t invent the internet _ just _ for porn. 

Spock’s last name was Grayson; he was the son of a rich, if not slightly odd, couple: a senator and a human right’s activist, which sort of explained why he walked and talked like he was being constantly watched. Given the  circumstances , he probably was. He went to a preppy private school, with tuition more expensive than the cost of Jim’s whole house, and ridiculous looking uniforms. 

Spock was also part of his school’s gymnastics club, though that one was sort of a given already. From what Jim could see Spock was sort of the captain, standing in the middle of all of the group shots, looking like he owned everything and everyone. The bastard. He was also really good, like, extraordinarily good. 

There were a couple videos of him jumping on the internet, and Jim finally got the chance to fully admire Spock’s skills. Back in the competition, Jim had only caught a  whiff  of Spock 's talent.  Sure, his eyes and brain had been completely fixed on the other gymnast, but the details began to get fuzzy with time, and seeing Spock jumping through the air again was impressive to say the least. 

It was also nerve-wracking. Extremely nerve-wracking. A feeling that left Jim hating himself for being such a chicken. He’d prepared all year, he was ready to meet Spock again and yet, he couldn’t help feeling a bit scared. Still, he was a Kirk, and Kirks faced their fears. 

The worst moment in Jim’s second national tournament - and the one that made him wish he could beat the shit out of Spock, and really made Jim hate with a new-found passion - was when Spock passed right by Jim in the entrance hall, and didn’t recognize him. Jim had expected him to make a snarky remark just like he had done the year before, and he’d been mentally preparing himself for possible comebacks he could throw at Spock (mostly variations of “at least I don’t walk with a stick up my ass”) but alas, Spock passed right by Jim and didn’t even flutter an eyelash. 

Weirdly enough, this created the exact same emotional turmoil as Jim’s last encounter with Spock had. Astonishment, disappointment, embarrassment and then, finally, anger. 

That night, he and Bones drank a couple of beers in their hotel room. Bones had already kicked ass on the vault earlier in the day, and though Jim was competing the next day, he simply couldn’t bring himself to give a shit. He’d been pathetically waiting and obsessing for a whole damn year, just to find out at the last moment that his feelings  were one hundred percent one-sided. 

It was so humiliating. Jim didn’t even understand why he’d gotten so caught up in Spock, they hadn’t even shared a real conversation - and from the looks of it, Spock probably insulted everyone he met. Jim had never felt more stupid in his life. 

 He’d told Bones this and Bones had only given him a look, muttering afterwards that they’d both had enough for the night. Jim had reluctantly agreed, though he hadn’t been drunk yet, not even close, and still he found himself dreaming of a dark-haired boy that night, who he sparred with for hours and then, just when Jim was about to lose, lent Jim a hand and kissed him lightly on the lips.  Jim had been so out of it when he went to bed, he didn’t remember a single thing next morning. Not the dark-haired boy, not the sparring and certainly not the kiss. 

Jim’s coach had given him an onceover when they met in the locker rooms, shoved a couple of aspirins in Jim’s hands, and then told - well, more like ordered - Jim to focus everything he was feeling and channel it on the floor. To focus on all the hurt – which Jim had totally denied feeling, by the way – and all the anger, in order to use them in his advantage. 

This time Jim didn’t shake in fear as he got on the floor. No, he was stone cold. Like the year before, he and Spock were the last coming up; they were both the oldest in their age group, which meant the pressure was on their shoulders. Not that Jim still gave a shit about that. 

Before? Sure. Now? Now all he wanted was to make Spock remember him. Make Spock look at him and think “fuck, he’s amazing”. He wanted - and he was going to be - the very fucking best anyone could ever be. 

And damn everyone and everything ever, if Jim hadn’t been more than that. 

He had swum through the air like he was born to do so. Every movement released a spark of Jim’s anger, made him feel more relaxed and more excited at the same time. He was alive, feeling like he was breathing for the very first time. Dancing and jumping through the air made him feel special, amazing, powerful. The best part was that Jim could feel all eyes on him, he could hear the audience gasp at a particularly dangerous flip and he could hear them mutter in excitement. Everyone was admiring him; everyone was being forced to look at him simply because they couldn’t look away, which meant that somewhere, deep in the sea of people, there was Spock. Watching and thinking about Jim, and Jim only. 

When Jim left the floor he was practically on cloud nine. Everything felt amazing; all the bad feelings had completely left his body, replaced by bubbling happiness and exhilaration instead. He looked at the judges and, saw them giving him an almost perfect score, better than everyone else. Jim was definitely on cloud nine then. 

A very good bonus was that Jim was still standing near the entrance of the floor when Spock got there. Jim smirked, barely able to contain himself, and Spock had twisted his head, probably trying to demonstrate confusion in regards to Jim’s simpleton behavior. But the look in Spock’s eyes… That look was a whole other story. 

Where his face tried to carefully hide, Spock’s eyes were an open book to whoever dared to look, and Jim had been looking. His eyes portrayed anger, mixed with dismay and frustration, maybe even jealously. Something told Jim that Spock hadn’t forgotten about him, the events from the day before being nothing more than an act. 

Despite there being no real confirmation, Jim felt impossible sure of this and it made him feel happy. To know that he’d caused an emotional reaction out of Spock, to know Spock hadn’t actually forgotten him, to know he could beat Spock. He felt happy, light, nothing short of spectacular.  

These were all feelings that were immediately crushed when Spock began his performance. Exactly like last year, Jim’s performance had been amazing and Spock’s had somehow been better. 

 Jim watched in wonder, he wanted to hate Spock for being so fucking perfect, but he couldn’t. Not when Spock looked so extraordinaire, so capable and skilled, like to him, gymnastics were more than a second nature – were his life. Jim knew that feeling, but he never knew he could also feel it while watching somebody else. 

Spock got a perfect score, and for a smallest second Jim couldn’t help thinking Spock deserved it. Then, Spock had gotten off the floor, carrying the same cocky smirk Jim had had only minutes before. The biggest déjà vu ensued, where Spock passed by Jim and said. “Nice try kid, but you can’t beat the professionals.” 

This time Jim’s team only managed to hold him long enough until Spock entered the hallway leading to the locker rooms. 

“What the fuck do you mean  _ ‘kid’ _ ? We’re the same age, asshole.” Jim grabbed Spock by the arm and dragged him to a more hidden corner. It wasn’t like he had any problems fighting with Spock in public; it was just that wouldn’t do him much good to be disqualified from the competition for behavior problems. 

“Don’t touch me.” Spock glared at Jim like Jim was the scum of the earth, and even though Spock’s comment only made Jim want to hold him tighter, he let go of Spock’s arms nearly immediately. Almost as if he’d been burned. 

“You’re an asshole. A preppy, ignorant, gigantic asshole, you know that, right?” Jim asked as he leaned into Spock’s personal space, their faces bare inches from each other. 

Spock sneered. “At least I’m not a hillbilly farm boy.” 

Jim wanted to punch him so badly in that moment. He wanted to smash the stupid smirk right off Spock’s face, all the pent-up anger coming back in a flood and begging to be released. Spock was so close, his boiling breath clouding in front of Jim’s face. They were so close; Jim had his fists tightly closed by his sides, ready to hit and destroy. And he hated Spock, completely hated him with every fiber of his body, and he couldn’t think straight anymore, and Spock was so fucking close. 

Jim kissed him. Roughly cradled Spock’s head in his hands as he pulled Spock in. Spock gasped in surprise, and Jim took it as an opportunity to shove his tongue inside Spock’s warm mouth. It took Spock a couple of seconds, but the shock eventually disappeared and he began kissing Jim back with the same ferocious passion. Their kiss was a battle itself, both of them fighting for dominance, trying to make the other one give up underneath their hands. It lasted only a fraction of a second, but to them, it felt eternal. 

Just when things were starting to get good, Jim heard the voices of his teammates. How he recognised them, he had no idea - since his brain was a disorganized mix of thoughts about Spock, and Spock only. But he heard them, and that was all that mattered. He pulled away and shoved Spock back against the wall simultaneously. Regardless of the fact that Jim knew that any second now his teammates were about to show up, he couldn’t bring himself to fully let go of Spock. His gaze being automatically driven to Spock’s swollen lips every time he dared to look away. 

“I’m going to beat you next year.” Jim had finally said, before his arms gave in and he ran away. No goodbyes, no explanations. Only a promise that next year Jim would be the winner. 

****

The year that came afterwards – the year between the second and the third National tournament – was probably the craziest in Jim’s life. 

Jim and Bones both got scholarships to Stanford University – finally gymnastics paid off – and they became roommates. Jim’s mom had dropped them off, teary-eyed but smiling as she kept hugging Jim and petting his hair, telling him she was so proud that her little baby was going to the same college as his father. Jim tried to smile as he fought back the tears. 

Soon they were unpacking their stuff in their relatively small place and meeting their new next-door neighbors: Sulu, who had a katana hanging above his bed, and Chekov, some Russian wizard or something. They seemed quite nice, a bit weird, but nice. 

The best part of going to a really fancy university with a gymnastics facility was that it allowed Jim to choose whatever course he wanted - as long as he joined the college’s professional gymnastics team, which was sort of a  _ duh _ , and got some decent grades. After thinking about it for a long time, Jim finally realized that he was never going to get a better opportunity to deepen his studies again, and instead of choosing an easy course like everyone expected him to, he chose Computer Science; because despite what was popularly believed, Jim was not stupid. It wasn’t a lie that he preferred hanging out with his friends and jumping around to reading a book the size of Mt. Everest; but that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy studying computers - which were brilliant and completely the future if you asked Jim - in the little free time he had.

Bones chose Medicine, though it had required some very deep convincing on Jim’s behalf. Bones was brilliant, and Jim knew that better than he knew the back of his own hand, and everyone with a decent pair of eyes could see how brilliant Bones was, except the man himself. He was scared shitless when he finally turned in the papers, which okay, wasn’t very weird behavior since it  _was_ Stanford and it  _was_  Medicine. But Jim knew with every fiber in his body that Bones was taking the right choice; that both of them were heading the right way. 

College life was hectic and new, which made Jim love it completely. He’d always loved the feeling of energy running like wildfire, busy people all around him. Everyone had somewhere to go, something to do. There was never any time to think, only to act. 

Despite knowing this quite well, Jim felt that of everyone on campus, he was the busiest of them all. He also knew this was an irrational thought – Bones had somehow began to take two-minute showers and Jim had no idea how those even worked – but Jim felt it nonetheless. Still, he truly did like being busy. It meant Jim had no time to think about anything that wasn’t standing – metaphorically or literally – in front of him. 

No time to think of Spock. 

As soon as Jim had left Spock back at tournament, he’d told Bones everything that he’d done. Telling his best friend he’d just kissed a guy wasn’t exactly on Jim’s Favorite Things to Do list, but he truly didn’t have a choice either. It was Bones after all. 

Bones only needed to take one good look at Jim to know something was up; and after that he was worse than a dog with a stick, nibbling and pushing and generally being a annoying fuck until he got what he wanted. Probably a great quality for a doctor, if Jim really thought about it. 

So basically, to avoid any further embarrassment and annoyance, Jim had told Bones the truth - sort of expecting his best friend to beat him in the head for being a “fucking bastard, who couldn’t hold still for more than two seconds without doing something incredibly stupid”, or something to that effect. . 

Instead, Bones had stared at Jim for a long while. They were back at their hotel room, supposed to be packing so they could get the hell out of there. Jim found himself unable to stare back, looking outside the window behind Bones’ back alternatively. 

It was probably because of the hormones, Bones had finally said. 

Huh, Jim had replied eloquently, prompting Bones to go on a lengthy explanation on how Jim had an excessive amount of hormones running in his blood, due to the ridiculous amount of pressure he’d been putting himself under for the past month, and that his body was probably just trying to adjust to the general lack of sleep and healthy food. Add that to the pills Jim had taken in the morning, and the fact that Jim was already a healthy teenager at his prime, Jim could pretty much be considered a walking and talking hormonal time bomb. It was meant to be that Jim had tried to find some release, the anger he’d been feeling when confronting Spock acting as the final catalyst. 

It made sense, Jim had thought. Never mind that Bones hadn’t been in med school yet back then, that Jim had never done anything like that in all of his gymnastics career, and that even though the brute smash of lips only lasted a couple of seconds, Jim found himself treasuring it. He had catalogued those seconds into his mind. 

He hadn’t meant to do that though, honestly, it just sort of happened. If anyone asked – not that anyone would, since Jim had only told Bones – Jim would swear on his dead father’s grave that he had tried to forget the kiss. But somehow he ended up making the memory stronger instead, until it started to pop up randomly in his head whenever Jim came in close contact to anything that reminded him of Spock – dark hair, dark eyes, stupid haircuts, gymnastics, etc. – and after it came the memory that was always a bitch in the ass to disappear. 

One thing Jim could avoid though was thinking of explanations and meanings. The kiss had happened, and Jim had an explanation in regards to the scientific side. Sure, it was a shitty one, but it was an explanation nonetheless, and it was good enough for Jim and his already frail heterosexuality. 

There was truly no need to think about why Spock hadn’t pushed him back, or why Jim had liked the kiss so much, or what would have happened if his teammates hadn’t appeared. For a long while, Jim did not think about any of this. 

And then summer ended, Jim got out of his small town in Iowa, where he knew everyone and everyone knew him, and went to California, where nobody remembered your face unless you were a national threat. Stanford even had a LGBT club, and Bones had told Jim that he didn’t give a fuck if Jim sucked cock or ate pussy as long as he used condoms. Everything was new and different, but a good kind of new and different. 

There were also new people, who didn’t know Jim and didn’t care that he did gymnastics in his free time. There was a whole new fucking world in front of him, and finally, Jim had the chance to explore it. 

For a while, Jim managed to forget Spock, as if the other man didn’t even exist. The memory of their kiss was temporarily replaced by new ones that Jim easily traded with both women and men, no longer caring about labels. They were sweeter than anything Jim had ever had with Spock, and yet not nearly as vibrant. Jim also forgot his promise; too busy focusing on the tournaments coming up next month to remember the ones coming next year. 

Overall, Jim was doing fine. He was normal, had friends, managed to keep up with all of his classes and fell in love with college gymnastics. He was even sort of popular, with a new-found promiscuity that wasn’t nearly as bad as Bones made it look. Most importantly, Jim had a life that didn’t revolve around obsessing over a guy he’d met twice. 

This didn’t, by any means whatsoever, mean that Jim had abandoned his dislike of Spock. He still thought Spock was a snobby bastard, still considered him his arch-nemesis, still wanted to beat the shit out of Spock just because he could. The only difference being in college seemed to make was that Jim got really good at avoiding difficult thoughts, and wasn’t as crazily obsessed anymore. 

Weirdly enough, this didn’t last that long. At the beginning of spring, someone in the gymnastics team had sent around an email saying “HOT COMPETITION!!!” with a video attached to it. Jim expected some kind of movie trailer about gymnastics, as if they didn’t have enough of those already, and he was surprised to find a video of Spock. Shorter hair, different costume, new team by his side, but it was still Spock alright, repeating his National’s performance and somehow making it look even better than before. 

Jim really hated how Spock was so ridiculously good. It wasn’t fair, Spock didn’t even seem to break a sweat despite all the crazy twists he did, his body moving with practiced ease. Every muscle in his body seemed to know what to do at precisely the right second, toned muscles under the skin-tight suit making him look like some kind of Adonis. 

That was the worst part of watching Spock, the fact that he was not only really good at what he did: he also looked fucking gorgeous doing it. His leotard was dark blue from shoulders to toes, with splashes of silver all over Spock’s torso that made him look even slimmer. Everyone knew gymnastics costumes were supposed to look ridiculous, that was just how things went, and though Jim had to say his new black and gold one was pretty decent, compared to Spock’s it looked like a worn rag. 

Jim’s hands slipped inside his pants as he watched the video. Afterwards, he would feel like a gigantic wave of shame had decided to drown him. He would wash his hands and change his boxers, climb into bed and pretend he hadn’t just masturbated while watching a video of Spock. 

The next day he would do it all over again, except he was in the shower and there were no videos, only Jim’s hyperactive imagination. 

It was then that Jim discovered Spock was almost like a drug: you only needed to taste the tiniest bit, and soon enough you find yourself addicted for life. It was true - ridiculous, but true - and Jim didn’t know how to deal with it, so he didn’t. He continued moving forward like everything was exactly the same, he kept having casual sex with people he knew, met his friends whenever he could and didn’t overdo his training. Then at night, when Bones was stuck in the library studying, Jim would jerk off while thinking about Spock. Sometimes he would delve into fantasies, but most of the time he didn’t. There was no need to make things even more complicated than they were. 

The honest truth, if Jim ever admitted it to himself, was that he knew he had a crush on Spock. It was either that or compulsive obsession about Spock, which Jim reckoned wasn’t really up his alley. He wasn’t the type of guy to go ballistic when things didn’t go his way; if he was, he’d probably be crazy as bats by now. He was simply the sort of guy who, when falling for something or someone, fell hard. But again, Jim would never admit that, he preferred to simply pretend this thing he had with Spock was neither real nor did it happen to him, despite all evidence pointing out the contrary. 

And that’s the whole story. That’s how Jim and Spock first met, and how Jim immediately decided he hated Spock’s guts, how Jim became obsessed and let hormones take control of his body, how he discovered the world of heterosexuality wasn’t made for him and realized he was good at avoiding things he didn’t want to think about. 

****

All of it led to where Jim was now, in the third National Tournament. Since Jim was in a new age group, his participation was longer this time around; where before he only had to stay for a day or two to make one definitive performance, this time Jim was staying for three full days. In the first he had to present a number with a bunch of set moves that had been previously announced by the judges; basically it was everyone doing the same jumps and swirls in different styles, to see who the stronger ones were. On the second day, Jim got to rest and enjoy his stay, and then on the third he had the final, and much more important, free-style performance. 

 When Jim finally got on the floor, he scanned the crowd for Spock’s familiar face. Why he did that, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure. But it barely mattered, because flashing lights kept blinding his vision, and soon enough there was music in the air and Jim was running and jumping in joy. No matter what Jim said about hating the nervous feeling he always got before his performance, about despising the gut-wrenching sensation he got when you lost, about detesting the turmoil his body suffered each time he waxed his body, or went on ridiculous diets, or took new pills to help shape him up… Despite all that, the ludicrous happiness Jim felt whenever he did something particularly fantastic, when he awed the audience and made the judges fall a little bit in love with him, well, it made it worth it. All the pain, all the stupid costumes and stupid hormonal imbalances and stupid comments Jim had to listen to over the years; they were all worth it in the end. 

Jim got a near perfect score, which made him smile like the gods had just blessed him with a sparkly dildo made out of diamonds that created mind-blowing orgasms. The thing about Jim was that, truth be told, he wasn’t as confident as he seemed. He used to be, back when he was in high school and the world still seemed bizarrely small around him, Jim used to think he was the boss. Then he met Spock, who humiliated him without even trying, and Jim’s confidence began to shake. It didn’t fall or crumble; it just shook it a little, but in a good way. Jim now knew he wasn’t the best thing on earth and that no matter where he went – there was always going to be someone better than him. So the feeling of being the best, or just being really, really good, was always a more than welcomed one. 

“Hey kid, nice job,” Jim was about to protest the usage of the word ‘kid’, for fuck’s sake he was eighteen already, but then he turned around to see Bones walk towards him with two girls in pink leotards by his side. “These nice ladies here invited us to a party tonight. You interested?” The girls giggled at Bones’ southern accent and the way he drawled each word, adding an extra layer of innuendo to everything he was saying without even trying. Jim, on the other hand, simply rolled his eyes. Bones might not be as promiscuous as Jim, but he was still a college student in a tournament full of girls who thrived for small moments of freedom where their over-controlling parents and supervisors couldn’t reach them. 

“Sounds good to me.” Jim said as he smiled brightly. In reality, Jim wasn’t in the mood for a party in a cramped hotel room, with cheap booze and boring people, but Bones was obviously all for it, and who knows? Maybe Jim would find someone he liked. 

Okay, that was sort of a joke. The thing was, after Jim had jerked off while watching Spock, he just... hadn’t been able to do it while thinking of anyone else. He’d tried, god knows how much he’d tried, but no matter what Jim did or who he tried to think about, his thoughts always returned to the same lean, muscular body, dark hair and impossibly dark eyes; which made sex with girls pretty awkward, though Jim did keep trying. And it wasn’t like Jim was still trying to pretend he was straight - he’d left that boat a long time ago - but he’d only met Spock twice. Twice! 

It was too much, and Jim wanted out desperately, but nothing worked anymore, and now he was in the tournament again, and Spock was there too. Living and breathing in that snobby way of his, walking like he was the greatest, talking like his voice was honey to his own hears, driving Jim crazy without even trying or realizing he was doing it. 

Jim sighed in frustration as he walked towards the locker rooms to change. Bones had already left for their hotel room, satisfied with the knowledge that he had his wingman. While he changed from his skin-tight leotard to some jeans and a t-shirt, Jim saw a glimpse of Spock walking in, accompanied by two other teammates in the same clothes. In a thoughtless impulse, Jim took a step forward towards Spock, but quickly stopped himself when he realized what he was doing. For fuck's sake, he and Spock weren't friends, and Jim couldn't just go up to him and say... Well, he wasn't sure what he wanted to say, only that he wanted to say something. 

Spock didn't see him – of course he didn't – too busy looking down on everyone else. Slipping out quietly, Jim couldn't help feeling happy that he'd accepted Bones' invite. There was no risk of him getting obsessed with Spock again if he was too busy grinding against some boobless girl. Time passed bizarrely quickly after Jim left for his hotel room; Bones was already there, as expected, and the same girls from before were there too, or at least Jim thought they were the same girls. They had different clothes, and were way more open and relaxed, but the same blondish hair. Bones poured Jim a glass of something, probably cheap whiskey, and the four of them all spent the next couple of hours together, talking about the tournament and whatever else they could think of to avoid awkward silences. 

Jim wondered about the party the girls were supposed to be throwing, and how they were going to arrange everything if they were stuck in a lowly hotel room with two boys, but didn't say anything. The girls were happy - no, not happy, more like drunk - and no longer capable of questioning what they should and shouldn't be doing. They draped themselves without a single ounce of shame on top of whoever let them, in this case Bones and Jim since they were the only ones around. Bones was more than happy to comply, Jim simply relinquished the warmth of another body, light and feminine with nice curves and fluid lines, around him since it made him stop thinking of Spock. 

They ate some snacks around 9 p.m.; room service was way too expensive and apparently, the party they were going to didn't have any food. This time Jim voiced his doubts aloud, what kind of party didn't even have some lousy snacks, and one of the girls - the one draped on Bones - finally replied. 

"We're not going to a party silly; we're going to a club." _Oh_ , okay, Jim thought, that made sense. Jim didn't usually go to clubs; he liked the warmth of a thousand bodies moving with and against him, but the music was unbearable and the drinks were far too expensive. That was probably why Bones lied and said they were going to a stupid party in a small hotel room. Not that Bones had actually said that now that Jim thought about it, he'd just implied. He made a good call though; there was an almost zero chance of Jim accepting an invitation to a club if he knew what he was getting himself into. Now that he was already buzzed, had a nice body against him and hadn't even thought about Spock for more than a few hours, the offer sounded very appealing. 

"C'mon let's go, I'm tired of just sitting here." The girl draped on Jim – Cindy? Candy? Who knows – said. She looked a bit upset, maybe because she wanted to have Bones instead of Jim or because Jim had barely touched her even when she was sitting in his lap, and Jim made a silent promise to pay a bit more attention to her for the rest of the night. Sure, he didn't even know her name and was only taking to her because of Bones, but he was still a gentleman. 

They got to the club around eleven and had to wait in line for about twenty minutes before the bouncer, a huge guy with tattoos all over his arms, a crooked smile and the creepiest mustache, let them in. He didn't ask for ID, barely gave them a second glance and Jim wondered if it was because they were hot or because the club was so crowded, it didn't even matter anymore who got in and who didn't. 

As soon as Jim passed through the big metal doors, he knew the right answer was the latter. To say the place was cramped didn't even begin to cover it. It was incredibly crowed, people dancing and waving themselves around without a single care in the world as LMFAO's "Party Rock Anthem" pumped through the fantastic stereo system. Jim felt a little bit overwhelmed, the music was blasting inside his ears and the smell of sweat and booze was practically intoxicating, but before he knew it, Bones was leading them to the bar and shoving a bunch of coloured drinks in his hand. The girl from before seemed to have perked up with the music and was happily moving against Jim, even has he tried to hand her one of drinks and yeah okay, this really wasn't his thing, but he was already there and he was already a little drunk so whatever, might as well enjoy it. 

As the night wore on, Jim felt himself getting looser and looser, he and the blonde girl -- Jim had given up on trying to memorize her name after the fifth time she told him and he forgot two seconds later -- were still around each other, dancing and drinking without even looking at each other. She was in his arms, moving up and down his body while purposely shoving her ass against Jim's dick, when Jim saw the person he’d been unconsciously looking for all day. He entered the club with a bunch of teammates by his side; and Jim knew they were only teammates to Spock because none of them were chatting or even smiling, acting like perfect strangers to each other. He wore a skin-tight black shirt and grey pants that clung obscenely to his legs and ass.

Jim didn't even realize he was staring until Spock looked his way. Their eyes locked for only a small moment, but it seemed to last forever. Jim wanted to look away - Spock's stare was just way more intense than it had any right to be - but everyone says you can't always get what you want. 

Spock smirked, in the same cocky manner he always did, before he finally turned away and headed for the bar where the rest of his teammates were already waiting for him. Jim sighed in release, not sure what the stare had meant and not sure if he wanted to think about it either. The girl in his arms didn't notice a thing as she continued to move against him, her sweaty hair batting against Jim's chin for a while before she began her up and down trip again. 

Jim avoided thinking about or looking at Spock again - he didn’t call himself the Master of Avoiding Things for nothing - but it was hard to do so when Spock was walking right towards him, the crowd literally parting before him. He grabbed Jim by the arm with a strong grip, and without uttering a single word, pulled him away. The blond girl tried to protest, but Spock leveled her with a look that could most likely freeze hell, and she promptly shut up. 

On a whim, Jim looked around the club, wondering if anyone had noticed two of the tournament’s most famous participants, who also happened to be rivals, walking together practically hand-in-hand. Nobody did; they were too busy with themselves, and Jim wasn’t sure if that made him feel relieved or annoyed. It was childish, that he knew, but Jim liked having people’s attention on him, especially when Spock was around because it meant Jim could say: 

“Oh this guy? Yeah, I know him, know him really well even.” which he didn’t, by the way, but for some reason felt like he did. 

Probably because of all the jerking off thinking about Spock. Oh fuck, now Jim was thinking about jerking off about Spock, while the man himself still had a possessive grip on him and was probably dragging him to a corner so he could give Jim a mouthful. Holy fuck, what if Spock was homophobic or some shit like that, and wanted to get revenge because of last year’s kiss? It looked like something petty and beneath him to do, but Jim wouldn’t put it past him completely. These days he didn’t put anything past anyone. 

When Spock finally let go of Jim’s arm, he did it so he could position himself behind Jim and circle one of his arms around Jim’s waist, not even bothering with being discreet as he began dancing. Jim gaped, unsure of what had gotten into Spock’s brain and wondering if it was contagious. He wanted to push Spock away, just so he could breathe a bit and get his brain to calm down, but he didn’t feel brave enough to move a single muscle, afraid that if he did, he would break whatever spell Spock was under and Spock would stop moving against him. Because while having Spock dancing against him was weird, - very, very weird - it was also really scorching hot, and Jim could feel Spock’s hard-on rubbing against his ass cheeks, and god – that felt good. 

“What are you doing?” Jim managed to gasp out. ‘ _ I Like The Way You Move _ ’ was now playing, and it seemed to encourage Spock, who began moving with more force than needed, and whose arms now felt like heavy chains around Jim, holding him steady as Spock grinded and rubbed and moved and felt. Jim expected some kind of overly confident reply on Spock’s behalf, the usual, and he was sort of shocked when he received the complete opposite. 

“I don’t know.” Spock said as he grinded his hips against Jim’s ass, apparently unable or simply not desiring to stop. A strangled moan left Jim’s lips, but it could barely be heard over the roaring music of the club. Spock turned Jim’s head around with the hand that didn’t have a vicious grip on Jim’s hip, and pushed their lips together despite the awkward angle. 

The kiss was like their first one, and yet, it was also completely different. It was sweet, that was probably the right word, the taste of their colourful drinks mingling together and causing Jim to shiver. Spock tasted like hot chocolate and alcohol mixed, he tasted like danger, passion, irresistible and so fucking good. This time it was Spock in control, but there was no battle as Jim just let him; his brain felt clouded from the drinking and the heat and the music and   _Spock_ , who sucked Jim’s tongue and kept grinding against him with abandonment. 

When they finally broke apart for air, Jim finally noticed where they were standing. Near one of the walls of the club, the crowd around them never bothering to give either of them a second glance as they grazed against each other, too busy drinking themselves into oblivion. That wasn’t the noticeable part of where they were though, no, what Jim really noticed was the mirror. It covered the whole wall, smooth with the exception of various smudges of what Jim hoped was sweat and not… something else. 

There was nobody in front of them, which meant Jim had the perfect view of himself and Spock, rubbing against each other like horniest people in the world. Spock has his mouth on Jim’s collarbone, hunched over so he could suck and lick and tease, until there was a shiny red mark on the skin that could be easily hidden later on. Jim felt like he was hypnotized, the sight of Spock so lost to desire and lust being a bit too much for his semi-drunk brain to handle. He also felt like his dick was suffocating inside his pants, which was not a very nice feeling at all. 

Spock must have sensed Jim’s discomfort, because in one smooth motion he slide one of his hands to Jim’s crotch and started palming Jim’s cock through the fabric of his pants. 

“Son-of-aaaahh… God, fuck you Spock.” He couldn’t see, but instead could feel, the smirk against his shoulder. 

“Maybe later Jimmy.” Spock whispered against his ear, causing Jim to moan embarrassingly. After that an easy pace, easier than Jim would like to admit, was created, with Spock grinding against Jim’s ass as he cleverly moved his hand. The worst part was that Jim knew, somewhere deep inside his skull, that he was never going to forget this. If he hadn’t been able to forget one simple kiss, he sure as fuck wasn’t going to be able to forget a full grind-on in a club. 

That was sort of when it hit him that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to forget. That maybe, he wanted to have this again, the real deal, no more cheap fantasies his mind conjured on lonely nights. Spock looked like an asshole, except that he also didn’t, with a smile in his eyes that didn’t seem to quite reach his mouth - but was there regardless. 

In an unexpected motion, Jim turned around, grabbing Spock by his collar as he kissed him furiously and rolled their hips together. He poured out all his anger into the kiss, all his doubts and fears and confusions and his want, and watched mesmerized as Spock reciprocated with the same desperation. The friction between their cocks was… well, the best word Jim could come up with was mind-blowing, though perfect could probably do it too. Jim came first, a violent orgasm practically tumbling out of him as he kept grinding against Spock until he too, was coming hard in his tailored pants. 

Jim had his eyes closed when he felt Spock’s warm hands leave his skin. He opened them to find Spock, with those impossible human eyes that said everything without description, staring at him with what Jim assumed, or maybe hoped, was affection. 

There was no way for him to know though, because Spock didn’t utter a single word, just stared and stared like Jim was some confused puzzle he had yet to figure out. The intensity of his stare in such close proximity was overwhelming, and a feeling of claustrophobia overcame Jim’s body. “I’ve gott-gotta go.” He said numbly, before he stepped out of Spock’s way and moved towards the nearest exit. 

He was walking as quickly as he could, looking at his feet and trying his best not to fall as people kept elbowing him by accident, when a strong hand grabbed him. For a fraction of a second, Jim thought it was Spock going after him; but when he looked up he saw Bones looking at him with preoccupied eyes, with one of the girls from before, who was busy licking Bones’ neck. 

“You okay?” Bones asked, or more like mouthed, Jim felt like the music in the club was getting louder with each minute. 

“Yeah, just feeling a bit sick. I’m going back to the hotel,” Bones seemed torn between offering his best friend company, and continuing to dance against the blonde bimbo in his arms. Since Jim hated seeing his friends in conflict, he made the decision for him. “See you tomorrow.” He added a wink for good measure, and before Bones could say another word, he was out the front door and into the cold night’s air. 

The club was only two blocks from the hotel, so Jim decided a walk would do him good, clear his head and all that rubbish. He was fairly sober by now, but the extra gust of crisp air against his whole body did the final job of getting the alcohol out of his system. The streets were fairly full; gymnasts from the tournament enjoying their time and a good amount of natives casually strolling around, couples with their hands intertwined and groups of friends easily chatting between themselves. 

Jim felt lonely; he rather wished he didn’t, because all of Jim’s life he’d been lonely. There were always people around him but they were never there and Jim was used to that, more than fine with that. He didn’t mind being lonely, except that now he did. A part of him wished he’d stayed back at the club, talked to Spock, figured out what the hell was going on between them and ask Spock if his feelings were mutual or completely one-sided. A thought passed through Jim’s head: that maybe Spock knew, somehow he knew how Jim felt for him even though Jim himself wasn’t very sure, and he was just messing with Jim’s head for the fun of it. 

Luckily, there was not time to dwell on that possibility, because as Jim entered the hotel’s lobby, he realized the excuse he’d given Bones earlier was not a lie, feeling a tiny bit of relief for not having lied to his best friend. This relief quickly disappeared when Jim hurled himself to the nearest bathroom and vomited his guts out. At first he’d thought the queasy feeling in his stomach was coming from his presence in the club; flashing lights mixed with heavy drinking and some mutual grinding never did sound like a good idea. But now there was no club and no Spock to blame, only florescent lights and a smell of synthetic roses that made him feel sicker. 

****

Jim had no idea how much time passed as he sat next to a toilet and waited for his stomach to calm down. Besides feeling like his head was about to explode, his stomach implode and his whole body was about to collapse upon itself, Jim felt reasonably good - which most likely meant these were just his allergies acting up. Jim knew better than to accept random drinks people offered him, even if those people were Bones, and yet he kept doing it. 

At some point in the night one of the hotel’s staff came by, and Jim grudgingly accepted being taken to his hotel room, where he passed out in less than two minutes, clothes and shoes still on his body. 

It’s impossible to describe how happy Jim was next morning, when he realized he didn’t have to perform anything that day, in fact, didn’t even have to get out of bed. Of course, when Jim’s stomach gave an unpleasant twirl and he felt the bile piling up in his throat, that choice was kind of taken away from him. His whole body convulsed as he threw up, there was barely anything in his stomach which made the pain increase tenfold. For a small moment, Jim felt like a young kid again, wishing his mom was there holding his forehead and whispering soothing things. Afterwards, Jim found a bottle of aspirin and took enough to calm down the pain in his head. Bones was nowhere to be found, which was a good thing because Jim wasn’t in the mood for his usual dramatizations (‘how much did you drink last night kiddo? You didn’t take any drinks from other people did you? How many fingers do you see? Do you have any rashes? Let me check, Jim you have to let me check!’) 

Jim got in bed again; no point of being up and about when his body still felt like shit and the thought of being away from the toilet drained the colour out of his face. He fell in and out of sleep for at least two hours, always on the edge of finally letting go when memories of last night kept rushing back and flooding him awake. God, Jim felt so stupid now. He shouldn’t have let Spock come to him, shouldn’t have let things go that far. He was aware of his own feelings to the bowl-cut bastard, and yet he went and got himself felt up like a horny teenage girl. 

Later, when Jim was still rolling around in his bed and feeling miserable for himself, Bones showed up. He looked beaten up, clothes rumpled, bags under his eyes and hair sticking out everywhere. Despite all that, there was a goofy smile plastered on his face, one of those post-coital ones, so Jim knew he was doing good. 

“Hey kiddo, you okay?” Bones asked as stripped down and stepped inside the shower. 

“Yeah, just tired and hungover, you know, the usual. How about you? Did you even get any sleep?” Jim made a point of not telling Bones about the allergies from last night - he wasn’t even sure if they were allergies, or just his body being weak - because really, why ruin the good mood Bones was in. 

His friend laughed from the shower and didn’t answer, which was an answer in itself. Jim knew Bones was a never kiss-and-tell kind of gentleman. 

“At what time is your performance?” Jim asked as Bones stepped inside their small hotel room, freshly showered with a ridiculously small towel around his waist. “I still need to get my cheerleading outfit and the pompoms from the dry-cleaning.” Jim tried to smile, but knew he didn’t do a very good job at it when Bones fixed him with a pointed look. 

“You sure you wanna come? You look like death warmed you over.” 

“The drinks didn’t really agree with me last night,” Jim said. This was actually the truth, just not the complete one. 

“Jim, did something happen last night? Something you wanna tell me, your best friend for two whole years now?” Bones sounded concerned, more so than he usually did; and Jim wasn’t very sure, but he thought Bones knew what had happened last night and just wanted Jim to come out and say it. 

Jim frowned, and then gave a short laugh because no, he wasn’t ready for that, not yet. “Don’t worry. I’m fine, just need a bit of a nap. Also, there’s no way I’d miss your jumping around like a demented rabbit Bones! What kind of friend do you think I am?” Jim posed dramatically, a hand in his heart and another above his eyes as he swooned. 

At this Bones did laugh, though he didn’t look like he believed a single word that had come out of Jim’s mouth, but thankfully he also knew when to back off. Bones rolled his eyes as he threw a bottle of water at Jim. “Suit yourself; my performance is at four. If you show up, please do me a favour and don’t pass out, hate to get the crowd’s attention on your ugly mug instead of my magical jumping.” Bones joked. “I’m going to get breakfast now. I’ll bring you something later.” 

Jim smiled and waved his hand at his friend. He didn’t think his stomach could handle anything but water at this point, but there was no point in telling Bones that. 

When Bones finally left, Jim got up and went to the bathroom mirror to check up on himself. As expected, he truly did look like death had warmed him over. His skin was pale and kind of… goo-y, his hair looked brown and missed its usual blonde vibrancy that made the girls drop their panties when they saw him. His whole body looked a bit thinner than usual, which Jim reckoned was just an illusion or something, because he hadn’t vomited enough to actually lose weight. Overall, he looked hungover as fuck and only slightly zombie-ish. 

As Jim showered he realized with a big wince that he hadn’t bothered to clean himself last night, which meant his boxers were now encrusted with disgusting come and Jim had never felt happier in his life that he shaved his privates. Bless gymnastics and its ridiculous clothing rules. 

The boxers went to the trash and Jim spent some decent thirty minutes scrubbing himself clean. During that half hour, Jim let his mind wander about last night’s events. He figured he’d been avoiding things for long enough, and since it wasn’t doing him much good, might as well change tactics. Also, everybody knows that thinking in the shower is always easier and better. 

First Jim wondered what Bones would say. He mostly imagined shock, maybe even a small punch to his head for the sake of it, followed by a deep interrogation along the lines of _“are you sure Jim? Spock? Did you hit your head? Did he put a spell on you? Didn’t you use to hate him?”_ and then, when all that was said and done, Bones would most likely smile and pat Jim on the shoulder as he muttered, ‘ _well, whatever makes you happy kiddo._ ’ Because Bones was that kind of guy, stubborn and overly-protective but always looking out for Jim’s best interests in the end, and if Spock was good for Jim, Bones would be alright with him. 

Everybody else’s reactions followed a similar pattern in Jim’s head. Some would be shocked, some would congratulate him, some would make jokes about Spock’s bowl-cut hair and then wish them the best. Most would not know who Spock was so they wouldn’t even care. It was then that Jim realized he wasn’t thinking what Bones would say about the kiss anymore, that he was thinking about what everyone would say about him and Spock being together and damn, when had he let things go that far? 

Jim was thinking about when he’d become such a sap while brushing his teeth, clad only in boxer shorts and a white t-shirt, when a knock on his door broke him out of his reverie. It was probably just Bones, bringing back delicious food for Jim. 

“Forget your key again Bo—.” Jim began to say, but cut himself short when he noticed that nope, not Bones at door. “Err, Spock, hi, what are you— I mean, what are you doing here?” 

Spock lifted two cups of Starbucks coffee, and a bag with what Jim hoped were blueberry muffins. “Can I come in?” Ever so polite. 

Jim nodded and stepped away so Spock could enter the room, silently thanking all the gods in the entire universe for having showered and opened the window so the vomit stench could abandon the room before Spock had decided to bring him breakfast. 

“I met your friend, Leonard McCoy. He told me the room you were both in and that if I was going to ‘pester’ you, I should ‘bring some goddamn food to make it worth it’.” Spock did air quotations as he repeated what Bones had said, and Jim couldn’t help snickering at the sight of that. Spock, always so composed and perfect, saying ‘goddamn’ and making air quotations. It was sort of hilarious. 

They sat on opposite sides of Jim’s bed without saying another word, Spock handed him over one of the muffins — chocolate, not blueberry — and the coffee and together they ate in silence. While Spock drank, Jim got the chance to look at him and see if Spock was looking as bad as him. The answer was no, Spock looked just dandy, not a hair out of place, not a single wrinkle in his clothes. Jim distantly remembered Spock didn’t even have anything to drink at the club, which sort of explained why Spock was not hungover when Jim was, but raised a whole new batch of questions in upon itself. Because while Jim was showering, he also tried to come with a couple of theories on why Spock had jerked himself against Jim’s ass. Up until that point they mostly consisted of: 1) Spock had been drunk. 2) Spock had lost a bet. 3) Spock wanted revenge on Jim kissing him the year before, thought that one wasn’t very solid because more kissing didn’t sound like a very good revenge. And finally, 4) Spock had gotten fixated on Jim as much as Jim had gotten fixated on him, and together they did this dance of walking around one another and being confused and not talking about the fact that, although they’d only met a few times, they were both stupid for one another. 

“So..” Jim began and Spock looked at him expectantly with his huge, brown eyes. “About last night.” 

“Yes?” Jim tried to think of something to say that wasn’t incredibly embarrassing. He failed. 

“Have you washed your mouth?” Spock asked after a couple of seconds in awkward silence, breaking Jim off his wave of though. 

“Huh?” 

“Have you washed your mouth?” Spock asked again, though this time a bit more fiercely as he licked his lips and scooted up on the bed. 

“Yeah?” Before Jim had time to question if either he or Spock were going mental, Spock was already in his corner of the bed, kissing Jim for all his sober worth. Spock’s lips were chapped, a bit more dry than usual, but then Spock was biting Jim’s lips and inviting them open, licking his way in with an easy expertise. Jim let him, had no idea how he could even refuse, as Spock crowded his space and made him moan. Jim’s hands were on Spock’s hair, gripping and pulling him forward, one in the nape of his neck and the other near his ears, which Jim could feel now were slightly pointed. 

So far, Jim had only kissed Spock three times, and without a doubt, this was the best one yet. For one, they were both sober, only the faint taste of coffee in their mouths; and second, Jim was not angry and Spock was not superbly annoying. All of this made things just so much nicer, and simpler, and sweeter it practically made Jim melt because Spock’s hands were cradling his face like it was something precious and Jim loved every second of it. 

When they broke for air Spock was gasping, just the tiniest bit, and his lips were shiny, slick with spit and Jim felt oddly proud to know that he’d been the one doing that, that he was the one leaving Spock breathless. Jim expected Spock to dive back in - well, not expected, more like he was absolutely _sure_ \- because the idea of stopping just seemed so bizarre to him when they were so close; they both had a free-schedule, lots of time to kill and apparently eager company to kill it with. 

So it’s obvious that Spock did exactly the opposite. “I have to go Jim.” He said, a smirk already in place, as he got up and straightened his clothes. 

“What?!” For the second time in twenty four hours, Jim felt like he was being played, that for Spock it was all a very elaborate game of embarrassing Jim, and leaving him impossibly flustered. 

“The rest of my team is performing today, I can’t miss them. It would look bad for the team’s image.” Spock’s excuse made sense, sort of, though Jim wasn’t very sure what image he was talking about. They were a gymnastics team for fuck’s sake, not even Olympian level yet. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Spock said, and Jim noted the sentence was meant to sound like an affirmation, but ended up sounding like a question in the end, which made Jim smile because alright, maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling confused by the all kissing ordeal. 

“When I beat your ass on the floor? Yeah Spock, I think we’ll see each other.” There was no malice in his voice and Spock sensed that too, his smirk turning into a smile – a real fucking smile. That was so new. The thing was that there should have been malice, because in the end, he and Spock were still rivals, but there really wasn’t. In fact, as Jim watched Spock leave his bedroom, he could only feel the oddest fondness in his heart. 

In the next couple of hours, Jim altered his attention between watching TV and performing his routine inside his head to make sure he didn’t forget anything. Every five minutes his thoughts returned to Spock, though this time this didn’t bother Jim as much as it would have in the past. They were quiet and gentle thoughts, just passing memories of Spock’s lips and the fact that, despite everything being a big mess, it was also quite nice. 

At half past three Jim got dressed and headed out for Bones’ jumping area. The hotel was only a couple of blocks away from the stadium where the tournament was being held – very practical – and Jim arrived right on time, entering through the gymnasts area and sitting next to the rest of his teammates. One of the girls handed Jim some pompoms, because everybody knows pompoms are a must have on all sports events, and the special attention always made Bones blush like a tomato. 

His team gave a big cheer when Bones finally appeared in front of the vault, which earned them glares from pretty much everyone in the stadium and prompted them to shut up immediately. It was then that Jim noticed one of the glares came from Spock, wearing civilian clothes while surrounded by his team in blue and silver leotards. As soon as Jim’s eyes locked on Spock’s though, the glare dissolved and Spock smiled, again, at Jim, as if he simply couldn’t help himself. 

For the rest of the day, Jim felt ridiculously cheery, although that wasn’t only because of Spock. C’mon, Jim wasn’t that much of sap, not yet anyway. Bones won, not that there was even any doubt in him in winning, he was the best after all, and it was like everyone was high on happiness. Through the afternoon there were more events, more jumping and running and being awesome in glitter. Most of Jim’s teammates placed well in their categories, not as well as Bones, but good enough and Jim felt so proud of every single one of them. 

He was still feeling really good when he and Bones returned to their hotel bedroom around ten, after a gigantic dinner with everyone in McDonalds that involved lots of cheering and toasts with paper cups. Since Jim still had his final number the next day, and their coach had threatened to slay his throat if he stayed up after eleven, they both changed their clothes quickly and got into bed without their usual bantering. 

“You wanna tell me what happened yesterday?” Bones asked into the silence of the night, he was standing only a couple of centimeters away from Jim in his twin bed. 

“Last night?” Jim decided to play dumb, just to see how much Bones knew and what was safe for Jim to say and— 

“Yeah,   _last night_ , you and Spock. I saw you two Jim, dancing like a couple of sluts against each other.” Bones didn’t sound mad, just disappointed and Jim didn’t know how to respond to that, didn’t know how to handle a disappointed Bones. 

“Oh, that was just—I mean we didn’t, I mean.” Jim sighed, there was no way to go around the topic, he either told the truth or didn’t say anything altogether. “Can we, just, tomorrow?” 

The silence in their dark bedroom seemed to stretch indefinitely as Jim waited for Bones to answer. He lately realized that even though he hadn’t confirmed Bones’ question, he hadn’t denied it either, which was an answer in upon itself. 

“Sure, if that’s what you want. But we will talk about this Jim.” 

“I know.” 

“Also kid, you know I have no problems with whoever you date, right?” 

“Yeah, I know Bones.” A beat. “Thanks.” 

“No problem; goodnight kiddo.” 

“Night.” 

-+-

It’s impossible not to be nervous. Impossible not to shake, feel your palms sweat, feel your whole body begging you to run, doesn’t matter where, just run, get out of there and be free. It’s a normal reaction, it’s the nerves, can’t be helped no matter how many pills Jim takes and how many people tell him he’s going to be amazing. 

This time Jim is the last, just after Spock, and it’s a new change that leaves Jim feeling even more scared than usual because now he knows how well he has to perform if he wants to win, how perfect he has to be. And really, perfect is the only possibility because Spock is on his game, as always. He’s symmetric, light as a feather, shimmering silver under the blazing lights, he moves like so easily, like a snake on native land. Jim absently notices that Spock’s song seems to represent all of this, a more simplified version of [Danse Macabre](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DDqZZB90WYI) playing in the speakers. 

But there’s a difference, a really big one if Jim might say so himself, because when Spock leaves the floor and passes by Jim, who anxiously waiting for his turn, he doesn’t glare or make a funny remark like he always did in the past. Instead he smiles, something he seems to be doing a lot of lately, and wishes Jim ‘good luck’. 

Jim’s teammates all stare, as discreet as a gazelle painted in fuchsia can be in the midst of the lion’s territory. Bones pats Jim on the back, and doesn’t say a thing as he pushes Jim onto the floor, and this is it. This is Jim’s moment. 

The  **[music](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4aW3R_7m_QU&feature=related)**  picks up, something simple with a nice beat that allows Jim to do his routine with a nice amount of energy, and then Jim is raising his arms, greeting the judges and it’s like a switch turns inside of him because he realizes, just in time, that although he’s as nervous as he usually is, he also knows he’s going to win. The words ring and swim inside his head, not some random hope, but pure conviction. He’s going to win, Spock was excellent, yes, but Jim’s going to be better. It’s weird, but it’s also the truth and Jim would never be able to explain why or how he knows it, but he does. 

Jim jumps, moving his limbs in perfect balance, explosions of practiced movement and energy on the floor. The usual feeling of power is running through his veins, this feeling of invincibility that is just impossible to deny because look at him, honestly look at him, doing a triple back flip through the air like he was born to do it. 

His number ends quickly, it always does, the judges hold cardboard pieces with his score into the air - and yeah, Jim wins, by a slim margin but he _wins_ and he can’t feel it, not yet, too much in shock even though he already knew it was going to happen. His team explodes, even his super strict coach lets out a yell as they rush towards him and kiss him and hug him and throw him into the air like he’s the second coming of Jesus. 

When they finally let Jim go, when Jim begs for some space because seriously guys, he can’t breathe, Jim sees Spock in the corner of his eye. He expects Spock to look angry, maybe sad, possibly embarrassed because of his first loss in the tournament but instead Spock is looking pensive. Jim can’t know for sure because they’re so far away, but he thinks he sees a smile tugging at the corner of Spock’s lips, which makes no sense, but life never made much sense for Jim Kirk anyway. 

Spock mouths ‘follow me’ to Jim; or at least Jim thinks he does, he isn’t very sure, the adrenaline and the overwhelming feeling of ‘holy shit I’ve won, I’ve beaten Spock’ is finally catching up to him. He follows Spock regardless, entering the hallway leading to the locker rooms, except that Spock, instead of going right to where the locker rooms are, decides to head left. It’s a dark corridor, a bit darker with lights not as strong as the others and practically deserted. 

“Spock?” Jim asks when Spock finally stops walking. 

Spock turns on him abruptly; shoving Jim against the wall rather roughly, rather exactly like Jim had done to him one year before, and kisses the air out Jim’s lungs.  Literally. It’s very impressive. 

“You go to Stanford University, right?” Spock asks after a while of mutual saliva sharing. 

“Hum? Stanford? Yeah.” Jim lets himself be kissed again, until a question arises inside his head and he reluctantly creates some space between them again. “Why do you ask?” 

“Nothing,” Spock murmurs against Jim’s mouth as he pushes his body forward, lining up their erections and, shit, getting out of the leotard quickly enough is going to be hell. “Just wondering where I should send my application for transference to.” 

Jim is just about to forget everything Spock’s said so he can focus brain power on getting his leotard off, when his brain finally digests what has just been said. “Uh?” 

Spock smirks, the same-old cocky one that Jim is starting to grow fond of, before biting beneath Jim’s earlobe and making Jim moan like a fucking prostitute.  “Shut up, Jim.”


End file.
